Smoke is a combustion result; Fluids advicing us when the body screams what's going on; Ash was gone, it was something with shape, and even if it still exists, only their presence remind us where we're coming from, or better, where we are flying.

Searching this door that will never be open, to try to reach this things we don't have it because of our prickness.

To show off better of us noticing we're getting ruined during our walk, so at the end of our existence redeem us on what we wanted to be, but is late, they trapped us.